


That Dance...Again

by DayenuRose



Series: Untangling the Threads [1]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth - Freeform, Avengers-Steed and Peele, Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson - Freeform, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson - Freeform, Breakfast, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Cryptology, Cupcakes, Damian Wayne - Freeform, Dinner, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Friendship, Minor Injuries, Movie Night, Multi, Museums, Popcorn, Reminiscing, Stephanie Brown - Freeform, Teaching, Texting, Ties, argument, past relationship, tim drake - Freeform, tiramisù
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:06:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Dick Grayson is in Gotham for the evening and wants to spend it with Barbara Gordon. Only, when you have as much history as Dick and Babs, things are never quite that simple. Reconnecting with your oldest friend can bring with it a bevy of emotions whether you want to face them or not.





	1. Talking About an Orange, Obviously

Barbara’s phone rang again. Well, technically, it didn’t ring, it vibrated. But, she was still in the middle of class and she had a strict no answering policy while she was teaching. If she expected her students to respect the no phone rule, then she had to abide by it as well. 

In her line of work (and not the associate professor work), there were exceptions to that policy. The fact that the call made it past the ‘Do not disturb” function in the first place meant the caller had been on the ‘allowed’ list. Her heart always beat a little faster when a call came through while she was teaching. Her father and Bruce (well, more likely Alfred) knew not to contact her while teaching unless there was an emergency. The ‘kids’ weren’t always so considerate, but if she didn’t respond to a non-emergency text after a minute or so, they usually remembered she actually had a day job and might not be available for their every beck and call during daylight hours. Of course, there were exceptions even to this, and today Dick was the most grievous offender. After the sixth text and third call, she was seriously considering taking him off the ‘allowed’ call list. His first text had told her it wasn’t an emergency. 

_Hey Babs. In town for the evening. You free?_

After that, it wasn’t hard to ignore the rest of his texts and calls. If only they weren’t accompanied by that annoying buzzing the vibrating phone made against her desk. As the fourth call spilled into voicemail, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she finished her lecture. Technically, there was still a few minutes left of class, but she had finished the material she’d planned to cover and a quick survey of the students told her that they had absorbed about as much data as they could cope with for the afternoon. 

“Any questions?” Barbara knew the answer to her own question when the only reaction from the class was the snapping shut of laptops and the stowing of tablets in backpacks. Only Stephanie Brown’s hand shot in the air waving like it was an emergency. Barbara shot her a withering glare, though softened it with a smirk. Barbara began to shut down her own laptop, cancelling the slide still projected on the screen in the front of the room. “All right then. Remember your proposals are due Friday night by 11:59 pm. After that, they will be considered late. Don’t forget, I will be checking time stamps. Since there’s no questions, you are dismissed.” 

Though there was a chorus of groans at the reminder of their homework, it didn’t stop the class from chatting to one another about evening plans and weekend trips as they exited the room. Eager for dinner or parties (or whatever students did on a weekday nights when their second career wasn’t being a Gotham vigilante), they left class without giving teacher a second thought. She sighed a little wistfully, wishing someone appreciated the effort she put into her lessons. A new text pinged on her phone. Stephanie.

_Be kind teach, my nights are packed. ;)_

Babs smiled at the text and tapped out her own response. 

_So are mine. Ask Tim for help._

When only the two of them were left in the room, Stephanie galloped down the steps of the lecture hall and headed straight for Barbara. “You didn’t let me ask my question.” 

“The calls were from Dick.” Babs had stowed her belongings in her backpack except for her phone and headed towards her office with Stephanie in tow. 

Steph pouted playfully. “You really are an ora—“

“Steph.” She said her friend’s name with almost as much menace as their mutual mentor might. 

“What?! I’m talking about an orange, obviously. Whatever else could I mean?” Steph never lost the bounce in her step, letting the whole conversation roll off her. “Though really, what does Dick want? I mean, I can’t believe no one else noticed your phone ringing like a bazillion times. If it was an emergency...”

Babs scrolled through the text messages as they walked. Stephanie read over her shoulder. 

  
_Hey Babs. In town for the evening. You free?_

_Babs....you alive? Special offer one night only..._

_Babs, I’m bored. And hungry. Dinner?_

_Babs?_

_Please._

_I’m beginning to think you’re ignoring me on purpose..._

 When Barbara sighed, Stephanie giggled. Babs elbowed her in the shoulder. “All right, I’ll head out. You on patrol tonight?”

“Yes.” Babs dialled Dick’s number without bothering to listen to the voice mails he left. His phone started to ring. It was the fifth text that bothered her. 

“Then I’ll see on the rooftops. I’m going to see if Tim’s in town.” She gave Barbara a mock salute and headed back down the hallway in the opposite direction. 

As she turned the corner down the hallway that led to the professors’ offices, Babs pulled the phone away from her ear. While it continued to ring through the speaker, a familiar ringtone also echoed from farther up the hall. 

She’d noticed him, of course, but hadn’t put two and two together until she heard the ringtone. On first glance, she’d mistaken him for a student. He sat against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest and his elbows resting on his knees. His face was buried in his arms so all she saw was the top of his dark hair. From his even breathing, she recognized he’d fallen into a light sleep, though as soon as she approached, he was fully awake. His hands scrambled for the weapons he was not carrying—though if she had meant to attack, he was more than capable at defending himself, even without weapons. He turned his face towards her and smiled one of his lopsided grins. The smile was off, it didn’t reflect in his eyes. She only caught on because she’d known him for so long. Reading his smiles was like reading Bruce’s scowls. Over the years, she’d become proficient in both. 

“Hey Babs.” 

“Dick Grayson, what are you doing here?” She turned to the office door and began unlocking it. If she faced him, she’d be forced to admit that she was actually glad to see him, but she was also still annoyed with him for his impatient series of calls during class. 

Pushing himself into a standing position, Dick winced slightly as he put weight on his foot. “I thought about breaking in, but there seemed to be a steady stream of students passing by when I got here, so I figured I better wait in the hall.” 

She held the door for him while gathered his backpack and helmet and limped into the office. By the time the door closed behind her, he’d dropped his gear beside her desk. Once her bag had joined his, he wrapped her in a bear hug. “Mmm, Babs its so good to see you. I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too.” For a moment, she allowed herself to melt into his hug, until a ping of regret tore at her heart and she forced herself to pull back, just a little. He was like this with everyone he loved. His dad, his brothers, his friends. How many times had they gone through this dance? 

Sensing the subtle changes in the way she held herself, Dick dropped the hug and flopped into the chair on the ‘student’ side of her desk. She sat in her chair and began sorting through assignments and notes, separating what needed to be dealt with tonight and what could wait. 

“All right, Dick, enough goofing around. What are you doing in Gotham? I thought Bludhaven was keeping you busy?” 

“What do you think? Bats, of course.” When he sighed, he sighed with his whole body. 

“We’ve been working on a case, a supply run between Gotham and Bludhaven. Drugs from here, guns from there. Anyways, we were stuck, so B insisted I drive on out so we can go over it together. Then, while I’m on the road, apparently he figures out the missing pieces and doesn’t tell me until I arrive.”

She nodded. She’d been helping out with the case too. Gothamized drugs were a hot item in the black market of other cities. With Bludhaven being so close, they often were the first ones to feel the effects of a new push. The biggest hold up in the case so far was, which version of Gotamized drugs were they dealing with? “Joker or Scarecrow?”

He shook his head. “Neither. Bane.” 

She cringed. This wouldn’t be pretty. The fights were always more brutal when Venom was involved. “Okay. Why are you here in my office and not back at the Manor prepping for patrol?”

“He benched me.” Dick plucked a pen from her desk and began disassembling it. He fussed with it until he managed to break the shaft, dripping ink all over his fingers and onto his pants. “He said was going to patrol with Damian tonight.” 

Babs closed her eyes and counted to ten. She knew he was pissed, it’s why he was making her play twenty questions rather than tell her outright what was bothering him. Also, she’d know him for too long not to know that he was more angry with himself than he was at Bruce for making him come to Gotham then benching him. Grabbing the wastebasket, she moved around the desk so they were now on the same side and perched on the edge. She shoved the basket at him. “Let me see it.”

“The pen?” Placing the bin on the floor, he dropped the pen. Wiping his hands on his pants, he smeared the black ink into his black jeans. 

“Your ankle.” 

He didn’t protest as he straightened in the chair and placed his right foot in her lap. She loosened his shoe and peeled down his sock. His ankle was wrapped in an ace bandage. It wasn’t Alfred’s work, so Dick had probably done it himself. Usually he was better at this. 

Dick groaned as she unwrapped the bandage. With knowing fingers, she prodded his injury, watching his face for reactions. A micro-flinch of the eye. Lips pulled into a thin line that shifted into a yawn. Why did he think he had to hide from her? Even if he had managed to hide the pain from his face, between the swelling and the slight colouration, he wasn’t fooling her. It was sprained. Not terribly, but he needed to rest it. “Have you taken anything for it?”

“Nah, I was driving.” With a jerk of his head, he gestured at his helmet alongside his backpack. Motorcycle. He’d probably aggravated it further on the drive over. 

Gently removing his foot from her lap, she placed it on the edge of her desk. He scooted forward so it would rest more comfortably there. She headed for the closet in the back of the room and dug through its contents for a moment before finding what she was looking for. 

“How’d you hurt your ankle?” In one hand she carried a first aid kit. The same kit that was in every bathroom at the Manor and a simplified version of the ones Dick and Babs kept stocked in their respective apartments. In her other hand she balanced a pair of crutches. 

He exhaled a long harsh breath that blew the hair away from his face. Taking the first aid kit from her, he began digging through its contents for the painkiller he knew from experience would help. “I landed on my ankle wrong last night. I didn’t think too much of it, until I got home...”

Babs nodded. He didn’t need to elaborate. They’d all done it. Between the protective gear and the adrenaline, small injuries sometimes were forgotten until the night was over and they peeled out of their gear. It usually meant a minor injury becoming exacerbated. They both knew this was why Bruce had benched him. With Dick’s penchant for acrobatics and disuse of the grappling line while on patrol, the weak ankle put him at risk for further injury. More severe injury. 

Once he’d found the painkillers he wanted, he tapped out the dosage he would need and swallowed them dry. Sitting on the edge of her desk, she re-wrapped his ankle. 

“I have plans,” Babs said without preamble. “For this evening, I mean.”

“Oh.” His face fell and his shoulders sagged. With Damian on patrol with Bruce and his other brothers more often than not off on their own missions, it meant Dick would be left to fend for himself. “Well, it was a thought.” 

“I said I had plans, I didn’t say you weren’t invited.” She smiled at him, enjoying the chance to tease him. 

“Oh?” He perked up, his whole body responding to his every emotion. 

“Yeah, there’s a traveling exhibit at the museum I’ve been wanting to see before it leaves this weekend. Things have been crazy here and tonight’s the only time I’ve been able to clear my schedule enough to go see it. Want to come?” She tossed him an instant cold compress, then handed him the crutches. 

He accepted the crutches, awkwardly using them to keep the weight off his injured ankle. Despite the injury, his devastatingly charming grin was back. This time, it reached his eyes. “Thanks Babs. I’d love to.” 


	2. In Gotham, Nobody's in their Right Mind

For once, Babs managed to outpace Dick as they meandered around the displays. It helped that she had two working legs while he hobbled around on crutches. _Two workings legs._ She marveled at the thought. It wasn’t that long ago that the very thought of walking felt like a miracle. Now, after an experimental surgery, she was treating it as if it was simply ordinary. Not that the Batfamily hadn’t experienced more than their fair share of miracles. The boys—all of them—had died in one fashion or another and came back. Bruce had been lost in time and returned. What was re-gaining the use of her legs in comparison to that? 

She reached back and rubbed the spot on her spine where the implant had been placed. Dick had caught up and placed his hand over hers. “What are you thinking?” 

Turning, she smiled up at him. He could read her smiles as easily as she could read his. Still, she deflected, “I was thinking we need to pick up the pace. At this rate, we’ll never get through all the exhibits before the museum closes.” 

Though his civilian clothes belied the extent of his strength and grace, he maneuvered among the displays on the crutches as though he didn’t need them. “Well then, we better hit the highlights. Where to next?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched Babs as she surveyed the room, deciding which displays to prioritize. She was in her element. Computers and research. Coding and technology. Tim would have understood the significance of the displays without needing to read every placard explaining each item in layman’s terms. Even though he didn’t really understand what they were looking at, Dick was enjoying their trip to the museum. Mostly because it meant he got to spend some time with Babs that wasn’t life or death. He appreciated the chance to share this with her. These days whenever he saw her, Babs always seemed so serious and distant, like she was keeping not only him, but the whole family at arm’s length. Here, among the tech and gadgets she loved, joy infused her entire being. A fond smile touched his lips. He was reminded of the days when they were dating, the early days when they were Batgirl and Robin. Before...well, simply before. 

“Dick, this way. Look at that.” Babs touched his shoulder to direct his attention towards the blue cylinder of technology taller than him. _No, not a cylinder_ , he mused, _a ‘C’ maybe_. Around the bottom, what appeared to be a bench circled the faux-column. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a Cray supercomputer.” She leaned forward to study it closer. 

Dick raised an eyebrow but his eyes remained devoid of understanding. “Sounds spiffy.”

“Do you know Bruce has one in....” She glanced around the exhibit and nodded briefly to one of her computer science students. Lowering her voice, she continued, “...in the basement.”

“Is it next to the dinosaur?” He shifted his grasp on the crutches, taking it in turn to stretch his shoulders. 

“I’m going to blame the painkillers and not the fact you’re a practical Luddite.” 

“Hey,” Dick feigned injury as he returned his grasp to the crutches and hurried to catch up with Babs as she headed towards the next display. “I’ll have you know, the clock on my VCR never blinks 12:00.”

Even without the infectious grin, Babs knew he’s joking. At least in part. He actually owned a VCR and used it regularly. He had a VHS library of old performances and practices of the Flying Graysons. Though she digitized the collection for him years ago, he preferred watching the old tapes when possible. The least she could do was let him have his joke. “Congratulations. Welcome to the 1980’s.”

“Does that mean I get to wear a ridiculous collar on my costume and grow my hair out?” He said it all with mock solemnity, while his eyes twinkled with a double dose of mischief. 

“Don’t you dare,” Babs giggled at the image. “Damian wouldn’t be caught with you in public if you wore that.”

“Tt,” he mimicked Damian’s verbal tic to a tee. “I’ll look fabulous.....You’ve got to be kidding me!” He spoke in a voice loud enough to draw the eyes of every patron in their section of the museum. A docent hurried over in their direction, but Barbara waved her off. 

Even without looking, she knew what he’d seen. His muscles were taut and every one of his finely honed senses was on high alert. He shifted into a position that was ready to fight whether he was in uniform or not. Her joy faded while his ire increased. She’d been looking forward to studying that display in particular. She should have realized he’d only see it as a threat. 

“Who in their right mind would allow _that_ to pass through Gotham city limits? Wait, who am I kidding? This is Gotham, nobody’s in their right minds.” His voice had dropped in register to nearly the growl he adopted whenever he masqueraded as Batman. Forgetting the crutches, he jabbed ferociously in the direction of the wooden box that contained a keyboard and a series of rotors marked with the alphabet. 

“Shh.” She placed a finger on his lips as though that would stop his rant as easily as she had caught the falling crutch before it clattered to the ground and added to the noise they were already making. Every eye was definitely on them.

The rules bounced around in her head. Don’t make a scene. Don’t get noticed. Don’t do anything in your civilian life that will give away our secret. She was angry, but the rules kept her in check. In a moment, Dick would remember them as well and go back to playing his role. Their argument would be lost under layers of the well practiced facade. How many disagreements ended this way in their extended family? 

She kept her voice at a low whisper, in other circumstances the way she spoke into his ear would be almost intimate. “Waller has him at Belle Reve.”

“Like that’s secure,” he scoffed. “Babs, they brought a working Enigma machine to Gotham. Home of the costumed crazies and eponymous themes.”

“Says the man who wanted to build a permanent circus in Gotham. Great idea there.” She regretted it the moment she said it. 

He leaned back on the crutches, letting them take his weight. “Yeah, and I paid for it. Who’s going to pay for this? Does B know?”

“Who do you think arranged for the ‘Coding and Cryptology’ exhibit to come to Gotham? I wanted to see it. And since Riddler was accounted for... Bruce pulled a few strings. Traveling exhibits don’t usually show up for two weeks only in the middle of a tour. There’s been almost no publicity for it and I’ve been monitoring everything in and out of Belle Reve for months. Besides, Waller owes me.” 

At least, she assumed Bruce had arranged it. She’d mentioned it in passing to Bruce on one of the rare nights they were both in the cave. He barely acknowledged the mention before asking her to help with a glitch in the Batcomputer. A week later, she’d received an invite in the mail to attend the traveling exhibit. 

After tomorrow, the exhibit would be gone, back on its scheduled tour. Even though Bruce had arranged this for her, she’d delayed at actually visiting until almost the last minute. Despite all their precautions, she feared her appearance, even in her civilian identity, would set off a chain of event that would create chaos around Gotham. Dick was right, they were tempting fate. 

Still, that didn’t stop Barbara from glaring at Dick. Dick met her glare and returned it. Neither wanted to be the first to break. 

Finally, Dick let out a hiss of pure frustration and dropped his glare. He rocked forward on the crutches and ice laced his words. “Go look at your computers. I’m going to patrol the premises.” 

Barbara pivoted on her toe and stalked off in the opposite direction with as much fire as Dick was ice. She moved past the displays in a mechanical fashion, giving the Enigma machine a wide berth. Though she technically took in the details of every exhibit she passed, she scarcely processed what she was looking at. 

It had been a mistake to invite Dick. He didn’t get it, didn’t understand why it was important to her. It had probably been a mistake to come herself. In fact, she should never have mentioned the exhibit to Bruce in the first place. She should have let it pass by, chalked it up to another thing she would sacrifice for the greater good. 

She glanced over her shoulder at Dick. He stood in front of a display and to the casual observer he was reading about block ciphers, but Babs knew he was actually studying the security measures around the emergency exit beside the case. She wished that she was beside him, explaining how many of the innovations in the room played significant roles in the development of the security they used in their other lives. He’d recognize that significance and would appreciate the work she put into their defenses. 

By the time she circled back around the room, the PA system crackled to life and the pleasant voice of a museum employee informed everyone the museum was closing in fifteen minutes. Dick had also finished his patrol and lapped back around the room. They stood side by side in front of the Enigma machine. 

 “I’m sorry, Babs. I ruined this for you, didn’t I?” 

She shook her head. He hadn’t ruined it, not really. If she hadn’t felt the same dread, she wouldn’t have gotten so upset with him. She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. Despite her earlier protests, it was nice to share this with someone—with Dick in particular. In the end, he apologized. They’d both said things they didn’t really mean and he hadn’t left it buried. Maybe there was some hope here. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought up the circus....”

“Forget it. Even I have to admit, that probably wasn’t my brightest idea.” He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes. “I miss it, you know. Things were simpler back then.” 

She nodded. Babs knew exactly what he meant. But, she wouldn’t trade everything they’ve accomplished for the simplicity of the past. He wouldn’t either. 

“You did good work,” he said softly, his head bent towards hers. 

“You doubted?” Her eyes traced the hidden security measures that she had helped place in preparation for the exhibit. 

“Never in a million years, you’re the best.” 

The PA system crackled again. The same pleasant voiced employee reminded them that there was only five minutes until close. 

Dick sighed, then pulled himself together. “Go on, look at your spy machine. Take your time. I’ll run interference with the staff. I mean, being a Wayne has to count for something in this town.” 

She touched his sleeve. “Thanks.”

He limped off on his crutches in search of the person in charge. She didn’t doubt between his charm and Bruce’s influence, he’d get what he wanted. With a small smile, she headed over to the enigma machine. It was set up to allow visitors to type in a message. With a series of deft keystrokes, Babs typed and recorded a message that would be nigh on impossible to decipher later. Still, she would know what it said.


	3. The Problem Was, So Did Gotham

Even though they were sharing a slice of tiramisu, Babs still found herself a little surprised that she was here, having dinner with Dick Grayson. They hadn’t been back to the Bistro since the last time they dated. How many years ago was that? 

The first time they’d eaten here, was an act of desperation. They’d just started dating for the first time, and Dick had asked Bruce for a restaurant recommendation. He’d wanted to impress her with how grown-up he could be. Looking back now, it really wasn’t surprising that Bruce had suggested one of the trendiest restaurants in town. In those days, he was still hanging onto his lingering billionaire playboy routine for the public. So, when Dick had asked Bruce for a place he could take Barbara, Bruce suggested the place he’d taken his last date. Bruce’s date had been impressed and the restaurant had also made an impression on Barbara, but in the wrong way. 

It was obvious from the moment they’d stepped into the restaurant that it had been a mistake. Besides the fact that they were the youngest couple in the restaurant, they were completely underdressed. Babs remembered that outfit—jeans and a new sweater the colour of her eyes. It had felt appropriate when she chose it earlier in the day. Their date plans had comprised of a movie, dinner, and patrol. They’d fled the restaurant even before giving their names for the reservation Bruce had made for them. 

Starving and needing to eat before patrol, Dick had asked her what she wanted. Without thinking, she’d responded Italian. It was then, both of them realised, even though they knew every inch of Gotham by heart from the rooftops, at street level, there were parts of the city they only knew in passing. They’d wandered the streets with grumbling stomachs looking for an Italian restaurant. Several blocks away, they’d found the Bistro nestled between an insurance agent and a comic book store.

The food was divine. The atmosphere was cozy. And the food was priced at a point that even Barbara wouldn’t balk at back in the days when her only income was her part-time job at the library after school. It’d become their favourite place to grab a bite back in the day. 

After she and Dick had broken up, Babs had rarely come back to the Bistro. And never with another date. 

“Hey!” Babs knocked Dick’s fork away with her own as he dug his fork into her half of the cake. Quick as always, he scooped up the pilfered bite and shoved it into his mouth. 

He smirked. “At least I got your attention. You were lost in thought.”

“I was thinking about the first time we found this place.”

“Oh. That was so embarrassing.” He buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe Bruce suggested that other place. Do you know, later on he admitted that he hadn’t like it very much either. I don’t think it lasted six months after we ran out of there.”

Babs shook her head, a laugh on her lips. That was so Bruce. He might be the world’s greatest detective, but he still struggled with relating to ordinary people. 

Her phone beeped, bringing her back to the present. Her shoulders sagged and Dick recognised the body language. His shoulders sagged in a mirror image of hers. 

“You have to go?” He chased crumbs around the plate with his fork. 

She laid her phone on the table. “Not quite yet. I have time to finish the cake.” 

Babs took a bite, chewing the cake slowly and wishing she could make time slow down. She wasn’t ready to leave yet. Even with the weird moments, she’d really enjoyed spending time with Dick that wasn’t case related. 

“Thanks for letting me tag along. Let me treat.” Before Babs could protest, Dick pulled out his wallet and picked up the bill. Without looking it over, he handed the bill and his credit card to their waiter who appeared as if by magic when Dick had reached for his wallet. 

Alone again at the table, Dick slouched back in his chair. “Do you really have to patrol tonight?” 

His face had taken on that expression again. The one he had at her office. On the surface, he was the same good-natured Dick Grayson that everyone expected. Underneath the bluster of being miffed with Bruce about being benched and the pain of the ankle that kept him grounded, there was a river of emotion she was certain only she could detect. He was lonely and afraid of losing the connection to his family again. He was fighting between the desire to hold everyone at arm’s length at the same time he wanted to embrace them and never let them go. He was grasping for a reason to stay while fearing the hurt that vulnerability made possible. The distance in his gaze revealed the disconnect between his thoughts and what was happening in the world around him. . She   it because it was the same disconnect she felt. 

Her heart broke a little. The dance between her and Dick was an old one. It was the dance they kept returning to no matter how many times they broke it. They knew each other better than anyone else knew either of them. Tonight, Dick needed her. The problem was, so did Gotham. 

With a sigh, she pushed the remainder of the cake across the table towards Dick. She had to think. With Bruce and Damian already on a case, they were out. Bruce needed someone on a general patrol sweep so he could focus on the case. Steph was already on patrol and Cass had been on patrol yesterday. If Barbara asked, Cass would take over for her, but she’d already made plans to see a new ballet tonight. Cass took so little time for herself; Babs wouldn’t deny her that pleasure. Jason was somewhere out of the country. He was vague on the details and the rest of them allowed it as a form of intentional ignorance. If they didn’t know what Jason was up to, they couldn’t fight about it later. He’d call if he needed their help. If there was an ‘all hands on deck’ kind of emergency, Babs knew how to find Jason. This wasn’t the kind of emergency you bothered Jason about unless he was already in town. That left Tim. If he was in town. 

She dialled his number and he answered after the first ring. “Hello? Barbara,” there was a wariness in his voice. 

“Hi Tim. I was wondering where you’re at.”

“Why?” In the background on Tim’s end of the line, she heard a familiar laugh.

“You’re in Gotham. Good.” It wasn’t that she couldn’t track down Tim on her own. She simply preferred giving him his privacy and saving the technological tracking for when the situation was dire. Besides, Tim was tech savvy enough to give her a slip every now and then. He was good, but not quite to her level. “I have a favour to ask. Will you take patrol for me tonight?”

Tim groaned and a voice that was definitely Stephanie’s said, “Yes!” 

Babs rolled her eyes, then addressed Dick, not bothering to cover the receiver. “They made a bet if I’d ask Tim to cover for me tonight or not.”

“Let me guess, Steph won?” Dick chuckled as he finished the cake. Babs nodded. In a voice that would carry over the phone, he asked, “How much?”

“Twenty bucks,” Tim grumbled. 

“If you take the patrol, I’ll cover the bet.” 

She could almost hear the shrug, twenty dollars wasn’t the problem for Timothy Drake Wayne. Between the ribbing from his brothers and teasing from Steph, he wouldn’t be allowed to forget the lost bet for a bit. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind taking over patrol for you.” 

“Thanks. I owe you.” Babs bit her lower lip as she formulated a plan. “Would you mind handing the phone to Steph?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m going to go get ready. Bye.” 

There was the white noise of the phone being transferred. Titus’ bark echoed in the background as Tim opened the secret passage behind the clock. 

“Hullo, Steph Brown at your service.” The grin was evident in the words. 

“Tim’s helping you with your homework, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.” There was a shuffle as Steph packed her papers. “That is so uncanny that you knew what I was doing here. I’m saying it this time, you really are an oracle.”

“No, you’re just that predictable. Look, Steph, I’m putting the kibosh on this before it begins. No teasing Tim about losing the bet, okay? Remember he’s helping you out.”

“Fine, but you owe us cupcakes.” She was pushing. 

“If I make you cupcakes, you’ll go easy on Tim?”

“Yes--?” 

“All right. Cupcakes it is.” The alert on her phone beeped again. “Looks like I better let you go.”

“Oh shi—“ The scramble on the other end of the line increased. “I gotta go. See you tomorrow. Bye.” 

The line clicked off as Babs said, “Bye.”

“So, cupcakes? Does that mean I get cupcakes too if I don’t tease Tim.” 

Babs shook her head. “No, you’re the big brother. You need to set a good example for the others.”

“No, it’s a big brother’s prerogative to tease his little brothers. It’s obvious you’re an only...” He cringed at the shoe he had firmly lodged in his mouth. They all liked to forget that Barbara wasn’t an only child. Admittedly, sometimes she pretended that was the case herself. 

She waved it off. She wasn’t in the mood to dwell on _him_. Distract and divert the conversation. “I’ll make Steph share.”

His smile was tight. “Thanks. I want chocolate.”

“Well, now that I’ve disposed of my responsibilities for the evening, what do you want to do?”

He mulled over the options. “Movie.”

“Sure. Manor or theatre?” 

He hesitated. His long fingers wrung the cloth napkin. “If we go back to the Manor tonight, would you care to catch one in the theatre before I head back to Bludhaven? Maybe a patrol afterwards.”

The waiter returned with Dick’s card, then disappeared again. Babs rummaged in her backpack for her wallet, leaving cash on the table for the tip. She refused to remind him that his texts had said one night only. He needed to be home and she was happy to give him a reason to stay. 

“So?” Dick tossed the napkin onto the empty plate. 

Babs drained the last of her espresso and grinned. “Sounds good. I’d like that.”

And she meant it. 

 

 


	4. One Must Keep His Hopes Up

Some things never change. Alfred’s kitchen was one of them. Everything had a place and those places hadn’t really changed over the years. Babs had found the popcorn right away, it the same spot it’d always been. The air popper was a bit more of a challenge. It was in the same cabinet, but stowed in the very back. She had to crawl on her knees and lean half way into the cabinet to manoeuvre it around other infrequently used appliances. Apparently, she was the only one to use the popper. Not that it surprised her. When the kids fended for themselves, they preferred the convenience of microwave popcorn. If Alfred was around, he’d make it on the stove top. Her mouth watered as she remembered his kettle corn, the perfect mix of sweet and salty. 

While the popper heated, she set about methodically making a pot of peppermint tea. She moved around the kitchen like it was her own, finding mugs and tea without issue. The whole process—the popcorn, the tea—was familiar in the way that visiting your first elementary school after high school graduation was. The walls and hallways were still in the places, but the dimensions felt off. While her hands worked, her thoughts wandered. 

Barbara failed to remember the last time she’d made it to a movie night at the Manor. They were often spur of the moment kind of decisions. Someone was injured or sick or simply too exhausted to patrol and a movie night was perfect excuse to not feel like they were shirking their duties. It wasn’t that they forgot she was part of the extended family; it was simply that her position had changed over the years. She wasn’t one of Bruce’s adopted children. She didn’t have a room in the family wing of the Manor like the rest of the family. When she took on the role of Oracle, she’d moved from one of Batman’s charges to something more akin to a peer. He had let her in on plans that he hadn’t shared with the others. They’d worked side-by-side figuring out logistics during various crises and breakouts. Despite that connection, she would never truly be Bruce’s peer. He wouldn’t think to invite her to movie night. To him, she’d always be the Commissioner’s daughter and the girl who’d infiltrated the family mission. 

When she had resumed the role of Batgirl, somehow she still felt like an outsider to the group. No longer quite the assistant to Batman and never really part of the flock. The distance was more tangible when Dick wasn’t home and over the last few years, he’d been gone more often than not. 

She and Dick were the true peers. They were the firsts. The others looked up to them whether they admitted it or not. She became the mentor to Cass and Steph as they stepped in and out of the role of Batgirl. Dick had taken Damian under his wing and made him Robin. Whereas Dick felt the pressure to live up to Batman’s example, Jason and Tim felt the pressure of living up to Dick’s. She wondered who had it easier. 

When the whir of the air popper wound down with the flick of a switch, she turned to find Alfred standing behind her. 

“Miss Gordon, it is wonderful to see you.” Alfred greeted her like she’d never been away. 

“Hi Alfred. I hope you don’t mind me raiding your kitchen.”

“Never.” He pulled a pan from another cabinet and set it on the stovetop. “I take it that Master Dick is in the den and the two of you are having a movie night.”

“Yes. Tim?”

“He did inform me that he was covering your patrol, Miss Brown supplied the details.” The ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. “If I may be so bold, it is good to see you and Master Dick spending quality time together again.”

He started to heat the oil in the pot, while she stared at the silent air popper. “I can’t believe you kept this, no one else uses it.”

“The fact that you use it is enough for me to hold onto it. One must keep his hopes up.” The sample kernels popped in a triple series of small explosions. “Are you are still fond of kettle corn?”

“Yes.” She smiled. He remembered. Of course he remembered, he was Alfred. “You know you don’t have to do this. I’m perfectly capable of making popcorn myself.”

“I don’t mind. Go and watch your movie with Master Dick, I am certain it will do both of you some good. I’ll bring the tea and popcorn when it is finished.”

“Thanks Alfred.” She headed to towards the door. “You could join us, if you like.” 

“I appreciate the offer, but I am on comms this evening.” He touched to his ear with the comm unit. She was certain it was in passive mode, only receiving messages and not relaying their conversation back to the rest of the group. 

“All right, as long as you’re certain. And thanks again.”

“Go. I will bring your snack shortly.” 

 

In the den, only the light from the flickering screen illuminated the room. Babs and Dick sat in the center of the couch sharing a blanket. The rest of the blankets had disappeared and neither had felt like summoning Alfred to discover the fate of the other blankets or searching the nearby rooms for spares. Babs found she didn’t mind. She rested her head on his shoulder, his cheek rested against the top of her head. 

They’d ended up choosing not a movie, but the 1960’s run of the Avengers with Emma Peele and John Steed. As the second episode came to a close, Babs arched her back and stretched every muscle from fingertip to toes. 

“Ow.” He shifted his foot where it rested on top several pillows stacked on an ottoman. “Need a break?”

“No way. We’re just getting started. I can’t get anyone else to watch these with me. Dad thinks they’re corny.” She snuggled closer next to Dick with her feet tucked under the blanket. With her closeness, the tension that had been eating at him all evening began to seep away. He relaxed into her and she felt herself begin to relax as well. “Which one’s next?”

Dick scrolled through the list of episodes. “ _The House that Jack Built_?”

“Sure.” She reached over and pressed the play button.

The episode hadn’t gotten far when Dick lowered the volume until it was nigh on impossible to hear. A disorientating spiral filled the screen. He opened his mouth as if to speak, only to shut it just as quickly. Though she still snuggled next him, he was holding himself stiffer, more distant. The tension had returned. His eyes didn’t leave the screen, though when she looked up, she wasn’t actually sure what he was seeing.

“What’s up?” She placed a hand on his chin, drawing his face away from the screen and towards hers. “Dick, look at me. I need you to talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He tried to look away, but Babs wouldn’t let him. “We’re missing the show.” 

“I don’t care. You’ve been off all evening. Don’t deny it. Something’s bothering you. What is it?” 

“I forgot which episode this one was.” With the side of his fist he rubbed at his eyes until they were red and watery. When that didn’t seem to help, with the cuff of his hoodie he scrubbed at the nothing under his eyes as though he was trying to wipe away something only he could sense. Reaching over him, she grabbed the controller and backed out of the episode. 

“We can choose another one, but talk to me first.” She took his hands in hers. They were ice cold. “Dick, we’ve been friends for forever. We know each other’s rhythms. We know each other’s tics and preferences as well as we know our own. We know which buttons to press and how to make amends. Even when we’re fighting, when we’re separated, we know each other. I know you Richard Grayson.”

“Are you certain?” his voice was a strained whisper. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you. I promise, I’ll listen and I won’t give you a Bruce lecture, okay?”

He nodded. She waited while he organised his thoughts. “I don’t think Bruce insisted I come to Gotham because of the case. Today’s the anniversary of when....when the Crime Syndicate and Luthor....I died....”

She squeezed his hand again, letting him know she was there, supporting him, that she’d wait as he took his time. 

“That led to the Spyral craziness and the Owls. Sometimes I think I lost a bit of myself while I was out there. At times, I felt like I was becoming someone else. Like I was getting lost in the role. I was out, in the cold, away from all of you. For all intents and purposes, I was dead. My calls to Bruce were my lifeline. Then when Bruce lost his memories and didn’t know any of us, no one else knew I was alive. My calls went unanswered. Would it make sense if I said, I felt like I was being orphaned again? That maybe I was dying again. I was afraid that I’d never be able to come home. That I would continue to lose pieces of myself until I didn’t recognise myself anymore.”

Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. He didn’t fight it when they started to fall down his cheeks. “In the end, it all worked out, but I still have nightmares. Nightmares where I cross that line that we all promised never to cross. That Damian no longer respects me and Bruce will have nothing to do with me. And dreams where you won’t—can’t—forgive me for everything I’ve put you through over the years. Others where none of you know me anymore and I’m a stranger and all alone. The loneliness tears at my heart, Babs, and I think I will break.” 

“Oh, Dick. I’ve got you. You’re not alone. You’ve got me. You’ve got your family.” She moves so she could hold him. Her hand rubbed small circles on his back. The words were hard for him, he needed her touch. Dick was physical and she was words. They sat like that in silence until Dick began to relax again, his breathing in sync with hers. 

“Thanks Babs. Sorry for dumping all this on you.” He cuddled into her embrace. He wasn’t better, not by a long shot, but it was a start and she could work with that.

“Don’t apologise for that. Never apologise for that. I’m here for you, always.” 

He gave her a shaky smile. “Even in the middle of class?”

“Even in the middle of class, Boy Wonder.” 


	5. Longing and Belonging

They moved from black and white episodes into colour, Babs choosing the silliest ones she could remember. It wasn’t long before Damian returned from patrol. He stood in the doorway with a scowl on his face and an unsaid ‘tt’ on his lips. 

“Grayson. Gordon.” He acknowledged them with a terse nod. 

“Join us, kiddo.” Dick waved Damian over to the couch. There was plenty of room for him on the other side of Dick. If Damian noticed that Dick’s voice sounded scratchy and tight, he didn’t say anything. 

Before coming upstairs, he had showered and changed into sweatpants and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Though he appeared ready for bed, Babs recognised the tension around his eyes and in the way he held himself. Even in the relative safety of the Manor, he was still on alert trying to look everywhere at once, to prepare for the attack before it came. She knew from long experience that he was still too energised from the patrol. “What are we watching?”

“Just sit.” Dick said, pulling Damian onto the couch beside him and ruffling his still damp hair. The boy pulled away with his trademarked, “Tt.”

“ _Avengers_ , now shush.” Babs turned up the volume.

At first, Damian sat stiff on the couch, keeping a careful distance between the arm of the couch and Dick. His straight back didn’t touch the back of the couch. As the episode played, Damian sank back into the couch with his knees pulled up to his chest. Though he muttered critiques under his breath about the improbability of the episode, he rested his head against Dick’s shoulder. Halfway through the next episode, his eyes had grown heavy and closed. Dick smiled fondly at his little brother and gave Babs’ hand a squeeze. Surrounded by two of the people whose support and presence meant the world to him, Dick also fell asleep. 

Babs didn’t need to wait for the end of the episode before Bruce arrived. Like Damian, he’s changed out of uniform and into his own sweatpants and t-shirt. He leaned against the doorway watching his two sons and Babs. As though he didn’t realise he was being observed, Bruce smiled, a flash of contentment on his face. It took her a few moments to extricate herself from beside Dick without waking him.

“Hello Bruce. How was patrol?” Though she stood next to him, Babs felt the gulf of time between them. 

Bruce straightened. He favoured his left side as he crossed his arms across his chest. The previous contentment had not exactly dropped, but was now hidden behind the carefully maintained mask of nonchalance he adopted in public. “Thanks for spending the night with him.”

“Drop the act Bruce, you don’t need to perform for me.” She reached across the gap and placed a hand on his shoulder. To her surprise, he actually listened. He stuck his hands in his pockets and dropped the mask. Not exactly open, but definitely not closed. “Dick knows you didn’t call him out here to work on the case. Why didn’t you just ask?” 

“He’s Dick.” He said that like it answered everything. “Over the last few years I’ve been watching him break. I think I’m the cause of some of it. On the surface, he keeps up the facade, but inside, he’s holding everyone at a distance. That’s not Dick.”

Babs nodded. “I can see through the facade too.”

“I know. I’d hope he’d reach out to you. That’s why Tim was in town.” 

Of course, contingency plans. Why did he have to make things so difficult? “You could have told me.” 

“Dick needs people, but he’s been closing himself off. If I tried to force him to reconnect, he’d fight me.” He looked across the room at the back of Dick’s head. “He’s not the only one who needs to reconnect. We’ve missed you.”

Babs jaw dropped. This was positively gushing for Bruce. 

“Come back Barbara....Babs.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Please.”

“Are you dying?” It was the only reason she could think of to explain his behaviour. With shrewd eyes, Babs tried to see beyond the tired eyes and bruised ribs. To discover what he was hiding. 

“What? No, I’m not dying.” Bruce frowned. “I know things have been...distant...between us. I’m not sure how that happened, but I want you to know you are still part of the family. You and Dick were my first protégés. No, you’re more than that. Do you know what I mean?” He ran his hand through his hair. “I’m terrible at this.”

Across the room, Dick’s head, barely visible over the top of the couch, twitched. Bruce moved to behind the couch and ruffled Dick’s hair. “Glad you’re home, chum.”

“Thanks for making me come.” Dick reached up and placed his hand over Bruce’s holding it in place for a moment. 

“Anytime.” Bruce hesitated. He leaned over the coach to speak privately with Dick. “Now and forever, you remember that, right?” 

“Yes.” Dick closed his eyes and smiled. “Now and forever.”

“Good.”

Babs recognised a shorthand conversation when she heard one, only she didn’t know what they were referencing. That meant it was an old code, one from the days before she joined the family. Whatever it was, it brought comfort to both men. 

“Would you mind taking Damian to bed? I want to talk to Babs for a bit.”

“Sure. Make sure you get some sleep.” Bruce winced as he picked Damian up with one arm behind the boy’s back and one under his legs. 

“I’m not a child,” Damian mumbled, half asleep. He pushed against his father’s chest with no real strength to the gesture. 

“It’s bedtime, kiddo.” Bruce nodded to Dick, then Babs. “Good night. See you in the morning.” 

Babs made her way back to the couch. She sat sideways with one bent knee resting against the back of the couch and the other curled crossed-leg style. She massaged the ache in the small of her back and stretched her spine. “Guess you heard what Bruce said.”

“Yeah. Good to know he’s not dying. I would have guessed pain meds.” He reached over and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingertips remained a light touch along her jaw. “Is it true, what he said about you not being around much?” 

She turned her head away from his touch and his gaze. This wasn’t the evening to dig into her issues. Was it? 

“Hey Babs. You told me I can always talk to you. The same goes for you. I mean, you can talk to me.” His hand dropped from her face and rested gently on her knee. “Why haven’t you been around?”

Taking a deep breath, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose I feel like I don’t really belong anymore.”

“How can you say that? You belong here as much as I do.”

“Do you remember when you were Batman? While Bruce was missing...”

There was a rumble from deep in his chest. He shoulders sagged as he once again felt the memory of the weight of the cape and all it meant. “You don’t need to remind me of that.”

“It started back then. Things were complicated and I had to kill Oracle for a time. I was left without a secret identity. I wasn’t Oracle anymore and I hadn’t been Batgirl for years. Couldn’t be Batgirl. I was just plain Barbara Gordon. And I guess I was feeling lost.” 

He remembered Babs had set aside the Oracle identity, though for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why. He knew he should have been around more, but between being Batman, raising Damian, and pretending Bruce wasn’t dead (okay, missing, but he hadn’t known that at the time), he’d put aside a lot of what it meant to be Dick Grayson. Apparently he’d also neglected Babs. Back then, he told himself the others hadn’t known what he was going through, that he would be the only one to suffer. He’d been wrong. Again. 

“I’m sorry. I should have noticed. If I’d been there for you, maybe ...I don’t know, maybe I could have helped.” At a loss for the right words, he ran a hand through his hair—like Bruce. “You know, there’s nothing plain about you Babs. You’re amazing as anyone you want to be.”

“I think that’s the point, Dick. I didn’t know who I wanted to be or who I was anymore. Then Bruce had me work on the whole Internet 3.0. That kept me busy for a while. Eventually it was absorbed into the Bat-tech and I was back trying to figure out what I was going to do.”

With her fingers, she combed her long hair to the side and divided in it thirds. Years of long practice allowed her to work the plait by touch. If she didn’t find someway to distract herself, she’d never be able to get through her story. 

“That’s when I found out about the experimental surgery. They were showing great results and suddenly I had hope that I could walk again. Only the costs were prohibitive. Insurance wouldn’t cover an experimental surgery and we’d have to travel to South Africa. I only told Dad about it. 

“Then a week or so later, I received a letter informing me I was the recipient of a grant. It was enough to cover the surgery, the after care, and even the cost of the flight and lodging for me and Dad. To anyone else it would seem a miracle, but I knew that Bruce had somehow figured it out. I mean, who else could it be. And yes, I did my research. I had to make sure it wasn’t one of our enemies trying to trap me. I traced the grant through all the shell companies and misdirects right back to Bruce. I thought maybe this was his Bruce-way of encouraging me to be Batgirl again.”

“Did you ever ask him about it?” Dick closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the couch. He’d been sitting for too long. His body screamed for movement.

“Not directly. I thanked him. But, well, you know Bruce. When you try to thank him when he does something considerate...”

“...he pretends he doesn’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Exactly.” She reached for the teapot and poured herself a now cold cup of tea. Alfred would disapprove if he found out. She sipped at the tea while she picked up the strands of her story. “Right. So, after the surgery and the physical therapy, when I finally started to re-gain the strength in my legs, I started to push my training until I felt ready to go back out on the streets. While I was away, Steph voluntarily gave up the role of Batgirl and went back to being Spoiler. She told me that Cass had handed the mantle to her when she needed it, and she would return it to me because I needed it more than she did. Even though Steph seemed to take it in stride, the others didn’t. I was an interloper again.”

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “I think I can explain that. The transition between Robins has never been easy. Probably because we’ve never been able to do it naturally. We’re all so eager to grow up and leave Batman’s shadow, but not to leave the costume. Someone’s always forcing us out and up to the next identity. Bruce ‘fired’ me. Jason died. I forced Tim out so Damian would stay. For Steph and Cass to just give up the role, it seems almost unnatural to us.” 

“I think our family has issues.” 

He chuckled. “What was the first clue? The fact that we all think it is a perfectly natural life choice to spend our evenings running around the city in costume beating up bad guys. Or, the fact we don’t know what to do with ourselves when we’re not jumping off buildings or working on a case.”

“Speak for yourself. I have plenty to keep me busy.” Between lesson planning and grading, crime fighting and training, the computer maintenance and data collecting, Babs barely had time for herself. Keeping the Bat-family and their allies out of the official records as much as possible was practically a full time job in itself and she already had at least one of those. 

She blinked. There were tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. Why were there tears? She was content with her life. These were her decisions...right?

“Babs,” Dick wiped at her tears with his thumb. His eyes were about as dry as hers. “You’re not happy, are you?”

She shook her head. The tears increased. Oh God. Why couldn’t she stop crying? The room was silent except for their breathing and tears. She wanted to turn the volume back up on the tv. To head down to the cave and beat up a practice dummy. She wanted Dick to stay in Gotham. She wanted to work side by side with him again.

What a pair they made. Broken, hurting and reaching out for the constant they both wanted. The both needed. Both afraid to claim. 

He manoeuvred his leg so he could sit sideways on the couch like Babs. They faced each other, leaning in until their foreheads almost touched. Sitting in contemplative silence, they remained like that until they could find the words that needed to be said. 

“Hey Babs, do you remember what you told me about a year after we broke up the first time?” His fingers brushed her knee. Hers rested lightly on top of his fingers. 

She shrugged. “That was a while ago. I probably told you lots of things.”

“We had plans to go see a movie, but ended up teaming with half the League and the Titans. Saved the world.”

“Again.”

“As you said, again.” His cheeks reddened as he picked up the narration. Dick blushing, surely it was a sign of the end times. “I’d spent the day flirting with half the girls on the team. In front of you. I was flirting with them, but watching you. You stood there with that smirk on your face. The one that said, I know you Dick Grayson and I don’t buy what you’re selling.”

“Wow, I have more expressive smirks than I thought.” 

“You tease, but I felt guilty afterwards. I was doing it on purpose, to get a rise out of you.” He flipped his hand over so their fingertips touched. “By the time I got home, it was after midnight and we’d missed the movie. But, you were there, waiting for me.”

“I remember,” she said softly. “You wanted to know why I was there.”

“You said that you loved me and that I wasn’t ready for you yet.” 

Her cheeks reddened as she remembered. She’d felt too bold that evening. “Mmm-hmm.”

Neither of them spoke for several drawn out moments. The rising tension practically buzzed in the air. 

“Do you still feel the same way?” His hands withdrew from hers and he twisted his fingers in the cuffs of his hoodie.

“Dick, that was a long time ago. We were kids...” She sat up, pulling away from him. From here, she could either look him in the face or decide to look away. She chose to face him. 

“Babs. You were always more mature than the rest of us combined. You never bought any of my bull. You’ve always challenged me to be my better self, even when I fight it.” He took her hand. “Here’s the thing. I love you Barbara Gordon. I need to know, do you still feel the same way you did back then?” 

“Yes.” The word was more breath than voice. “I love you.”

“What about the other part?” He leaned in towards her, telegraphing his desires. Waiting for her to make the next move. 

“That’s up to you.” She leaned in towards him and lifted her face. 

“I think...” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, a sharp clarity had taken place. “I know...I’m ready.”

“So am I.” 

She closed her eyes as they kissed. Sweet and passionate. Longing and belonging. It had been years and it had been no time at all. It was a kiss of paradoxes and a kiss that was just right. They were starting that dance again. 

When they finally broke from the kiss, they didn’t speak. They didn’t need to, they could read it all on each other’s faces. Whether they succeeded or failed, this was the start of the final dance. 

 


	6. Epilogue – We Really Ought to Hijack the Kitchen More Often

Bruce meandered down the halls of the Manor towards the kitchen. In one hand he carried his suit jacket and in the other a selection of ties he needed Alfred’s help on deciding which one to wear. Sometimes morning came too early to make that kind of decision. Unfortunately, it always left him feeling a bit like he was playing Bertie to Alfred’s Wooster. Thankfully, none of the children had yet to make that connection.

Speaking of the children, Bruce stopped outside of Dick’s bedroom. The door was open. A brief glimpse inside informed him that the bed had not been slept in. Well, Dick was grown and it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d fallen asleep in front of a movie. Though, when Bruce had last seen him, Dick wasn’t alone.

Continuing towards the kitchen, he stopped by the den. The tv was off and a blanket was thrown haphazardly over the back of the couch. They’d been watching one of those British series that Babs had introduced Dick to when they were both kids. Dick had never been able to convert Bruce into a fan, but Tim was hooked. Maybe that’s all last night was, a walk down memory lane. Dick and Babs both had apartments elsewhere in the city. Dick had an independence streak a mile wide and sometimes would simply head to his apartment to remind Bruce he was an adult. Did Babs even know she’d always had a room set aside for her in the Manor? 

The whir of the coffee grinder and the aroma of sizzling bacon called Bruce onward to the kitchen. Even before he reached the door he realized his suppositions would be wrong. Instead of Alfred humming to himself as he prepared breakfast for the family, Bruce heard Dick and Babs chatting in the kitchen, teasing each other and Alfred. 

Turning the corner, he walked in on Alfred sitting at the counter sipping a cup of tea while Barbara fried bacon and Dick scrambled eggs. Alfred raised his cup in greeting. “Master Bruce, I’m afraid they have hijacked the kitchen.”

Bruce smiled and claimed a stool beside Alfred. “Don’t worry about that. We really ought to hijack the kitchen more often.” 

“What do you have there?” Dick asked gesturing towards Bruce and his ties with the wire whisk. He had a smudge of flour on his nose and his dark t-shirt was spattered with the white powder. Though he had dark circles under his eyes and was avoiding putting his weight on one foot, Dick was smiling. It reminded Bruce of Dick’s smiles as a boy, before he bore the weight of the world.

Alfred relieved Bruce of the ties. “Do you need assistance in choosing a tie?” 

To Bruce’s embarrassment, Babs turned from the skillet to observe the scene. She had a smudge of what appeared to be cocoa powder on her cheek and like Dick, she also had dark circles under her eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken (and he was certain he wasn’t), she wore one of Dick’s hoodies. As Alfred held tie after tie to Bruce’s shirt, one corner of Babs’ lips quirked up in a wry grin and she bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. Of course, she would be the one to make the connection.

Dick crossed from the counter to the stove and a waiting second skillet. As he passed Babs, his fingers trailed along the small of her back. “What’s so funny?” 

She stood on her toes, pecked a kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear. Dick failed to hold back a laugh. The merry twinkle in Dick’s eyes told Bruce that his son was picturing him as the foppish young Bertie. 

Bruce removed one of the unfrosted cupcakes cooling on a wire rack and held it out to Dick. “I will give you this cupcake if you never mention this to anyone.”

“No,” Babs squealed around a laugh. 

“Sorry Bruce. Don’t you know, cupcakes can only be used as bribes once. And these have already been claimed to keep Steph from teasing Tim. Besides, we made them.” Dick turned down the heat under the skillet and returned to where Alfred was sorting through ties. Studying the options for a half a moment, Dick selected a red tie with a pattern of tiny blue Superman shields and draped it over Bruce’s shoulder. “Wear that one.”

Alfred quirked an eyebrow, then nodded his agreement. “That one will do nicely.”

“Hn.” Bruce settled back on the stool and unwrapped the cupcake. He ate it in three bites. 

“Master Bruce, that is not a proper breakfast.” 

Bruce grinned around the cupcake. “I’m celebrating.

“What are you celebrating?” As suddenly as Batman would vanish, Alfred had produced his day planner out of thin air and turned to the date. The only thing scheduled was Bruce’s morning business meeting.

Bruce gestured to his eldest son and his friend’s only daughter. Dick wrapped an arm around Babs’ waist while they finished making breakfast. They chatted and laughed with their heads tilted towards one another. When they thought there was no one watching, they stole a kiss. Since last night, a weight had lifted from their shoulders and Bruce sensed that a new chapter in all their lives was about to begin. “Family, Alfred. I’m celebrating family.”


End file.
